


A strange world

by Cejes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Slash, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tom Riddle in Harry's era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 02:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16054022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cejes/pseuds/Cejes
Summary: Harry couldn't deny that he was a tiny bit fascinated, not voluntary of course, by Riddle. Everything he did was bloody perfect and looked so easy, that it was laughable that others couldn't do it immetiately. Like him. It was so damn unfair that Harry didn't even complain, because this was his life. An unfair bunch of happenings. So he deemed it as alright to sit outside, looking at the lake and daring whatever to hit him right now and there. (And he pitied himself for not remembering to bring a cloak with him.)





	A strange world

**Author's Note:**

> A dear hello to everyone, nice of you to find your way to my story and I hope you can enjoy it. :)
> 
> This work, as are my others, isn't beta readed and if someone of you volunteers: That would be fantastic!
> 
> English is not my native language, but I tried to make as few mistakes as possible. And now have fun.

Why everyone always thought in black and white was beyond Harry. He knew, like everybody else should know, that there were a lot a different sections of grey; and what was black and white was always a question of the person itself. For one murder was deep black, for the next one a blessing because a loved one was released from agony. So, as you can see the whole concept of black and white was a bit old fashioned and was in need of a reformation, at least if you asked Harry.

 

The news of Tom Riddle being a new student of Hogwarts were received with mixed feelings among the students, even Harry could admit that he didn't feel exactly comfortable around the boy at first. But no one really was; and who would be if you was faced with a stony expression, cool voice and too much wit for one person? There was no one to blame for such feelings.

All in all, Harry decided as he thought about the situation they all were in, was magic a strange thing. It didn't matter that he was within this word for the last seven years, he would never stop being not surprised. One day Voldemort was there, the next day he wasn't and Tom Riddle had appeared. Telling something about Merlin knows and now he was here; and Riddle didn't try to kill him once yet. A record Harry pretty much considered to write down in his nonexistence diary. 

Harry couldn't deny that he was a tiny bit fascinated, not voluntary of course, by Riddle. Everything he did was bloody perfect and looked so bloody easy, that it seemed laughable that others couldn't do it immetiately. Like him. It was so damn unfair that Harry didn't even complain, because this was his life. An unfair bunch of happenings. So he deemed it as alright to sit outside right now, looking at the lake and daring whatever to hit him now and there. (And he pitied himself for not remembering to bring a cloak with him.)

 

"Really Potter," Riddle's smooth voice caught him off guard, "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't appropriate such behaviour, would she?"

Harry just grunted in response, still feeling sleepy and pretty uncomfortable. What, dear Merlin, had happened? Why was he so damn cold?

"You can consider yourself lucky that I do daily morning walks around the lake. Otherwise you would properly freeze to death. Which would be a shame." Harry's brain felt foggy, it refused to think properly and so it was no surprise that he couldn't fetch the words. He did hear them, but he couldn't comprehend the meaning.

"I need you to focus on my voice Potter." Why was he so sure that it was Riddle, Harry mused. It could be everyone but somehow he doubt that someone less perfect would go out so early. Go  _out_ , he wondered, the reality catching up to him suddenly. He went outside and he didn't remember going back to the Gryffindor dorm again. Madam Pomfrey would indeed not be happy with him, with his track of visits to the Hospital Wing and so on. Most likely would she scold him for being with her again, if she would see him.

"We have to get you warm as soon as possible, and then let's get you to Madam Pomfrey, so she can have a look at you."

What?  _No_!

"No," Harry moaned quietly and he was just a tiny bit away from sulking. It was humiliating, and he would never act like that if he was more awake. More  _himself_.

"Look at me, Potter. Now." A cool, or warm, hand touched him and it was burning,  yet freezing. He tried to turn away; but couldn't. "I don't have time for playing around, Potter. It's neither my task nor intention to babysit you, so hurry up." A touch impatience had sneaked up in Riddle's voice, Harry could almost feel him rolling his eyes. He hated it. Perhaps he should hit Riddle where it hurts. It would be quite refreshing and satisfying.

He forced, despite all the tiredness in his bones, his eyes open. He didn't want to stay in Riddle's near longer than absolutely necessary. 

"Riddle," Harry slurred, his eyesight looking like it always did when he didn't wear his glasses. Where were they anyway? 

"Congratulations Potter. You know my name." It was actually Riddle, Harry had hoped to find himself with someone different. Even Malfoy would be better. Mostly. Perhaps.

"Not... Pomfrey," Harry said and he never would admit that he felt grateful for the short nod he got from Riddle. In backsight he should have known that it was a bit too easy. It was never that easy with the other one. He should already know that after all these years with Voldemort as his companion, who was the person Tom Riddle became, and the recent weeks, months with Tom Riddle himself.

 

Hours later Harry could think clearly again. For something like five seconds, then the coldness hit him like a jump in a frozen lake. He wasn't sure whether his lips turned blue but he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"Look who is awake. Sleeping beauty had enough sleep?" A mean, mocking voice asked and Harry could have sworn that it was Malfoy's. So... His earlier statement was clearly wrong. He would always prefer Riddle to Malfoy.

"Shut up," he told whomever, clearly lacking his usual bite. "Let me sleep." Had he known what would happen next, he would have made a quick getaway.

 

"Come on, Potter," somebody whispered in his ears and Harry wondered where he was. But then he decided that he didn't care because it was nice and comfy. "Open your mouth for me." Harry wasn't sure if he followed the words or not, but the voice left him alone afterwards.

 

As Harry could think clearly again, without sleeping in after about ten seconds, he was shocked. Snape stood next to his bed, which wasn't his at all, a dark expression planted on his face and two of his fingers touched Harry above his wrist. The man seemed even darker with every passing moment, his other hand found its way to Harry's forehead and Harry shreeked away.

"Be still, Potter," Snape sneered and Riddle appeared next to him, out of nowhere. 

"You!"

"You told me not to get Madam Pomfrey and the next best qualified person is Professor Snape. Now stop complaining, I did as you wished." The shame was, that he was right.

"And what gave you the right to..?"

"Potter," Snape's voice warned him suddenly, "you may be foolish enough to go outside during this season without proper clothing and seem to forget that you are indeed a wizard, and now you seek attention, but it is not above me to give you more detention." There was the little word 'more' that caught his attention and he detested it with as much passion as he could bringt up. It was a lot. "As soon as I, and nobody else except for Madam Pomfrey, deem you as healthy, you will attend detention with me for being outside after curfew." There was a smug little smirk on his lips and Harry shuttered. The man looked like he would prepare for committing a crime. Or like he had won some special price. Why Harry always attracted the mean persons, without any bedside manner, was nothing he could answer.

"Riddle found you and did the only logical and sensitive thing he could do, since you were brainless enough to reject his offer and refused to go to the Hospital Wing."

And here he was: The boy who lived, in a room that could belong to Snape's quarters, feeling miserable and being looked down by the two people he didn't want to be around when he was in the state he was. Snape and Riddle. (And by the way: Which _offer_? There wasn't any offer he could remember. (But then again... He wouldn't quite trust his memory at this particular moment.))

"Drink that," Snape ordered, handing him a fool smelling potion and Riddle glared at him; dared him to do otherwise. Others wouldn't be able to tell that, but Harry had lots of practice. In another world to another time he would start a fight, an argument, whatever it would cost him to do the opposite from what they expected of him. Now it was two against one. And he could admit to himself that he felt a bit uneasy. And under the weather as well.

Snape only seemed to be satisfied as he finished all of it, he even looked smug at seeing Harry's agony. Bastard. Riddle looked like he would be ready to kill him any second, for whatever reason, but remained quiet during the process. Only his dark eyes followed his every move, not missing even the slighest trembling in Harry's hands or the irregularity in his breathing; and Harry felt the urge to hide under his blanket, but he remebered himself that he was a Gryffindor. So he did the only logical he could think of: He glared at them. Trying to deliver them how he felt about his treatment and that they would pay him back.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Riddle asked and Harry considered jumping out of the bed. There were only a few aspects that prevented it: the first one was Snape and the prospect to gain more detention, the second one was sudden rush of sleepyness and the third one... He forgot.

 

"Potter," Snape said, his teeth clenched and Harry desperately wanted to clap himself on the shoulder.

"Sir?" he asked back, his smile all teeth and innocent. Riddle wasn't there, which was a pure blessing becaus otherwise Harry wouldn't have get through with it, Snape didn't know how to handle him, Riddle sadly did. (But that was mutual, thank Merlin.)

"I am not going to repeat myself. You need to drink that," the man pointed at the vial and Harry watched it with disgust written on his face, "and this one as well." Say again, why did he thought it was such a brilliant idea to go outside and sleep there the whole night?

Harry opened his mouth to protest, Snape couldn't really believe that he would take that stuff, and found himself with a hand in his neck and the vial pressed against his lips. That was...! Bloody hell, dear Merlin!  _What_  was was going on?!

"I do  _not_  have time for playing, Potter." He glared at his professor. "I have a class to teach, Riddle tries to breath down my neck and I have a duty, a responsibility, to care about my students. Which includes you." Snape looked grim as he spoke those words.  _Asshole_ , Harry thought bitter. He wasn't some stupid duty. He intended to tell Snape his thoughts but before he could do that his eyes were closing. (Which one was the worst insult he knew? It wouldn't be enough.)

 

"I can't believe you." Riddle caught him as he was busy sneaking out of Snape's quarters, he would always recognize the office, and considered him with a long look. Then there was a hand, it happened again and again, Harry mused silently, feeling his forehead and a disapproving sound escaped Riddle's lips. It was a noise Harry didn't like, because it meant Riddle would speak up, or worse, take action, even worse when none wanted him to interact. Which he didn't.

"Still running a temperature, aren't we?" he asked nicely. This time Harry reached back to punch him properly. His arm was stopped and Riddle made a mocking sound.

"None of this, Harry," Riddle said sweetly. "You'll have another opportunity."

"I'm going to get you," he promised silently, a bit out of breath. This whole 'sneaking out thing' was more demanding than he thought it would. 

"Of course you will." They both knew that it was true. And that was what made this thing interesting.

 

"The next time you do something so reckless and stupid, I will knock you out and drag you to the Hospital Wing while the whole school is watching." Riddle looked at him, his voice even and threatening. Snape's expression could be described as a bit shocked but thoughtful; the only indicator Harry had was an hoisted eyebrow. Impressive. "Am I clear?"

 

Snape was a somehow grey area to Harry, someone he couldn't judge. (Still he was an asshole.) He came back as Riddle tucked him into bed and Snape watched with what someone would call awe. He didn't ask what happened because it was pretty obvious; and Harry hated it because it was  embarrassing. Riddle, his  _lover_  (if you could call it that, Harry wasn't so sure what that thing between them was), who didn't tolerate or accept weakness, was still with him. Shame on Harry for assuming his life could be normal and less complicated. (Or that Tom Riddle wouldn't care about him, he just did it in a very different way.)

Tom Riddle was every shade of grey for Harry, black and white. Tom Riddle was everything, in every aspect. Perfect and not. A strange world, Harry wondered. The boy who would, or wouldn't he, became Voldemort, cared for him. He chuckled, maybe the world wasn't lost. At least the problems could wait and he could sleep for a bit. After all there was someone, next to his friends, who would watch out for him.

**Author's Note:**

> That is it for now, hope you liked it. If that's the case leave me a kudo or even a comment, please. I definetly will appreciate it.


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